Of The Heart
by chloeg29
Summary: Destiel AU: Sam and Dean's father dies and the boys are devastated. Dean seeks solace in Castiel, a new friend. This will have vivid descriptions of intimate relations between two male characters in later chapters. Dean's POV.


Castiel is not introduced until the next chapter.

CHAPTER 1

Of the Heart. Of the fucking heart. What was that suppose to mean? Of the heart could range anywhere from a heart attack to getting stabbed. I haven't heard from him in 5 years and then Bobby calls me today to tell me he died. Of the heart. Its only been 2 hours and I can't even remember how I felt when he first told me. Maybe I questioned why he had to die, but at it's heels was relief. I have no idea where he could be, but I have a more tangible grip on his whereabouts than I have had my entire life. Maybe he's in Heaven or Hell, but he's somewhere. I feel a sharp pain, which I know must be imagined because you can't actually feel pain in your heart. But sure enough, there it was. What if he is no where? He has just ceased to exist. He gets no redemption, no promised land, no after life. He really is just dead. He was here and now he's not. There are billions of people who will never know he was ever alive. No. No, no. I can't think of that. He's watching over us. He is an angle and, he'll watch over Sammy. He's safe.

Of coarse I believed Bobby, but I called around, just to be sure. I didn't want to tell Sam that his dad is dead without being sure. This is going to break him. The prospect of getting to know Dad gives Sam hope or something. That maybe one day we'd be a family and Dad would love us. It was keeping him satisfied enough to stop talking about him. I could've never dealt if he had talked about Dad a lot. Sam was only five when he left and hasn't seen him since he was seven, of coarse I had, though. I was older and I was supposed to, I guess. Sam is nineteen and he hasn't even seen him in 12 years. _12 years._

"Dean!" Sam is coming through the bathroom door.

"In here, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he corrects my used of his nickname, but I can almost hear the smile in his voice. I look up at him, his hair is getting long. It is dripping wet and has already soaked the shoulders of his t-shirt.

"I gotta say, your place isn't that bad. The water was hardly tinted. I'm just saying, you could've done worse," he looks at the ripping wall paper and smirks. He finally lowers his gaze to see my slumped posture.

"Sam-"

"Dean, what's wrong? You're white as a sheet," I turn at bit and pinch my cheeks discretely in an attempt to add color.

"Sam, you wanna sit down?" I look at him with a slight smile, trying to comfort him, but it must have been terrifying because he looks at me with raised eyebrows and a crinkled forehead. But he obliges. He moves a chair to face me sitting on the bed. He sits down, obviously uneasy, what with the sitting on the very edge of his seat and the straight-as-can-be posture.

"Dean, is everyone okay? Bobby? Ellen? Jo?" I see his eyes flit around trying to think of everyone we know who had so much as a cold recently.

"Sam. They're fine," I say stopping his questioning. "But Sam, I just got off the phone with Bobby and, well, Dad passed away last night." Sam's eyes are confused and sad and he looks straight at me, expecting something more. I look away to the wall.

"He was supposed to have breakfast with a friend this morning and the guy found him lying in his bed. Um, Bobby said it would have been painless, if that's any consolation. He probably struggled to breathe for a few minutes and his heart finally gave out." Sam is crying. This isn't what I want.

"Sammy, we're gonna be fine. It's all right, Sam." I take him into my arms and lean against the headboard. I hold him there; crying onto my shirt, until the morning.

When he finally wakes up, his face is stained with his tears from the night before and his eyes are crusty. I had awoken before and made chocolate chip pancakes. Sam slowly walks into the kitchen, but isn't awake enough to stand, so he sits on a stool.

"Pancakes, bro. God damn delicious shit right here," I'm swearing too much, just like I always do when I'm nervous. I hold out a plate of 6 pancakes; I made way too many and, well, he'll have to get off his high horse and deal with the fact that he will be eating a metric shit ton of pancakes.

"I'm not hungry" Sam pushes the plate away.

"Sam, you haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. Eat your breakfast," he looks at the food accusingly, but cuts a bite. He eats it and he looks sick. He leaves without a word and starts to get dressed. He dons sneakers, basketball shorts and a t-shirt.

"Where are you going?" I call from the kitchen.

"For a run. I'll see you in a few hours," I look at him quizzically, but I nod.

"Be back before it's dark, we can have a Star Trek marathon."

"You are such a nerd. I'm leaving, bye." He opens the door.

"Bye, Sammy," I say quietly. I hear the door shut and then his footsteps thud from outside. As they disappear I felt empty then and I shiver. It feels wrong. I grab my wallet, throw on my jacket and run outside. I feel like screaming. But as I bound out the door of the building, I look at the street and stop. The sun is out, the exact sun Dad looked at, but he'd never see this sun. A mother is ushering her inconsolable daughter across the street. Life goes on.


End file.
